


Inkblot

by Halvwyn



Series: Life of the Party Ficlets and Fics [10]
Category: Life of the Party D&D (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, Childhood, Childhood Memories, Confessions, Flashbacks, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Romantic Soulmates, Secret Identity, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:22:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23426188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Halvwyn/pseuds/Halvwyn
Summary: Vanden du Argenfort, though he would never admit it, was thrilled the first time a new crew member bumped into him on his ship. A clap on the back led to long moments of held breath until he could slip away to check the splotch, though it resolutely remained black.He was not Vanden du Argenfort any more, though. Staring into the campfire during his watch, he practiced his new name, whispering it under his breath as it echoed in his mind. Renard, Renard, Renard...Renard de la Mer did not waste time worrying about his soulmate, actively avoiding touch entirely. Renard de la Mer had much more important things on his mind: the Weeping Eye, completing this job for the cartographers’ guild, keeping his true name hidden from his traveling companions. Standing with a sigh, Renard shook his head, pushing all thoughts of Vanden aside before making his walk around the camp perimeter.
Relationships: Cassian/Renard (Life of the Party)
Series: Life of the Party Ficlets and Fics [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1681585
Comments: 6
Kudos: 42





	Inkblot

**Author's Note:**

> Helloooooo lovelies! I've finally completed my repentance piece for the angst I caused with Time and Life after Loss!   
> This was definitely the hardest fic to write fic I've written, but I was blessed to have some *amazing* betas from the LOTP server help me figure out how to make this work the best it could be!  
> The prompt for this fic is: Soulmate AU where the spot you first touch your soulmate is black until you touch, when it bursts into an array of color.

As a little boy, Vanden found the black, ink-like spot on the back of his right shoulder fascinating. A soulmark, his mother called it, telling him stories of two strangers brushing past each other on the street, only for their own black splotches to explode into color. Taking off a glove, she let him trace her brightly colored fingers in wonder. After that day, Vanden’s mind would wander, wondering how he was supposed to meet someone without facing them, his mother putting her foot down when Mattijn convinced him he would have to walk backwards until he met his soulmate.

Vanden du Argenfort, though he would never admit it, was thrilled the first time a new crew member bumped into him on his ship. A clap on the back led to long moments of held breath until he could slip away to check the splotch, though it resolutely remained black.

He was not Vanden du Argenfort any more, though. Staring into the campfire during his watch, he practiced his new name, whispering it under his breath as it echoed in his mind.  _ Renard, Renard, Renard... _ Renard de la Mer did  _ not  _ waste time worrying about his soulmate, actively avoiding touch entirely. Renard de la Mer had much more important things on his mind: the Weeping Eye, completing this job for the cartographers’ guild, keeping his true name hidden from his traveling companions. Standing with a sigh, Renard shook his head, pushing all thoughts of Vanden aside before making his walk around the camp perimeter.

* * *

Renard had seen nearly everyone in his party’s soulmarks, between bathing and the tending of wounds. Most were reasonably common: Boblem’s palm and wrist were painted black in the shape of a hand, a handshake; Astra’s covered most of his chest, a strip across his back in the mimic of an embrace. Cassian’s, however, never failed to phase him as odd, a large splotch across the left side of his chest. 

Despite the oddity, however, he never let his thoughts linger on the ink mark. It was unimportant in the grand scheme, he reminded himself. It wouldn’t be long before the group would dissolve, and he’d never have to deal with the elven man and his snide remarks and the definitely not fascinating soulmark.

Renard had nearly convinced himself of it when they reached the shipwreck. The last thing anyone in the party had expected were manticores, he himself thinking they’d only lived in fairytales. Astra was fighting for consciousness, and Renard made a note to applaud Boblem profusely at the next opportunity, but they were left two men short, and despite having slain one of the beasts, the second seemed to have no interest in stopping.

He wasn’t sure how he’d made it to Cassian’s side, whether it had been his own movements or the wizard’s misty step. What he was sure of, however, was the manticore’s intent focus on the man. He didn’t think when he stepped in front of the man and shoved him backwards, seeing only the claws coming down in another strike towards Cassian. Knocked away from the strike by the fighter’s shoulder, Cassian stumbled back several steps with the force as Renard himself felt the claws press into the leather of his coat and catch across his arm. He didn’t think at all of how his body had slammed back into Cassian’s as he stepped in front of the hit, focused only on ending things as quickly as possible for all of their sakes.

Renard sagged in relief as the manticore dropped, slumping against the nearest piece of wreckage. Sliding his rapier back into its scabbard left the fighter flinching, adrenalin from the fight fading and pain from the creature’s attack flooding in. Gritting his teeth, he pulled the tattered scarf from around his next, pressing it against the largest of the claw marks with a hiss.

Looking around what had been the battle ground, Renard took a mental stock of the party, smiling to himself in relief at the sight of Astra, though weak, sitting propped against a rock, Boblem helping him sip at a waterskin. Elyse had taken off into the wreckage once more, and a dull thrum of concern pulsed in Renard’s chest as the gleam of her arcane focus shone. Sariel had drifted away from the group, seeming largely unharmed, and he was sure Cassian was somewhere being....Cassian.

They still had a fair amount of daylight left, but Renard knew as well as anyone in the group that they wouldn’t be covering anymore ground. Throwing his now largely blood-soaked scarf next to his pack as the blood slowed to a stop, Renard set his jaw against the pain and set to work preparing camp. He was about to start on a fire when Cassian seemed to materialize next to him.

“I...know you do not like being touched, but your arm needs tending to before it gets infected,” Renard raised an eyebrow in question before the man continued, “and I find I am in your debt after what you did for me during the fight. If you would find it amenable, I am happy to stitch both your wounds and see if there isn’t something I can do about your shirt and jacket.”

Renard stared for a long moment, weighing his options before moving to unbutton and remove his coat with a sigh. Cassian hummed in thought as he attempted to examine the wound, “I can’t stitch your arm through your shirt, you know,” he intoned.

“I’m not taking my shirt off,” he snapped back, “If you can’t do it then just let it be, I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

Cassian tsked slightly, leaning back to look the other man in the eye as best he could through the mask, “No need for the fuss, Renard. If you’re that...shy, then just slide it off your shoulder so I can see, it’s not as if anyone else is looking” he countered, holding Renard’s gaze until he sighed, shifting to face further away before loosening the laces of his shirt and sliding it off of his right shoulder. He stiffened at Cassian’s soft gasp. 

“ _ What, _ ” he ground out impatiently.

“I didn’t know you had met your soulmate, Renard.” Cassian murmured, causing the ginger man to double take, turning to frantically look back at his shoulder. His eyes widened as he took in the vivid array of color enveloping the parts of his back he could see, grateful his mask obscured most of his expression. At one time, a detached part of him thought, the discovery would have been exhilarating. If he was Vanden, it may well have been the best day of his life. 

But he wasn’t Vanden, the little boy peering into his bedroom mirror was long since dead and gone, and this was  _ the worst thing that could happen right now.  _ Hells, he didn’t even know  _ how  _ he could have met his soulmate. He’d been so careful. Kept his distance physically even as emotional boundaries were being rearranged, kept his back safe at all times.

“I....I hadn’t...haven’t. I didn’t....” his voice trailed as the realization hit him with all the subtlety of a warhorn. “No...” he murmured, voice hovering between shock and horror as he watched Cassian’s eyes widen, glancing down at his chest, where they both knew his soulmark sat. 

Cassian swallowed before speaking, visibly trying to keep his volume low and voice even to avoid undue attention, “Well, there’s one easy way to find out, isn’t there? Lucky for you, _I_ am not afraid of showing some skin.” He removed his vest and armor with ease, only hesitating for a moment before peeling his undershirt up and away from his chest. 

Renard’s breath caught in his throat at the sight in front of him. The mark that had previously stained Cassian’s torso black was a chaotic blend of color swirling across his chest. “I...” he stammered, hand reaching up to run through his hair, eyes wide behind the metal of his mask. This wasn’t in the plan. Renard de la Mer, an act he had taken such care to uphold, didn’t have time for a soulmate, if he had one at all. His mind was racing a mile a minute as he struggled to come up with something, anything to say, all the while fighting the urge to reach out and press his fingers against the freshly changed mark.

“Renard?” Cassian murmured, smoothing his shirt into its proper position, and waiting for a response that never came before continuing, “I was raised to believe finding one’s soulmate was a rather momentous event in your life, but I think it is safe to say you do not agree with that assessment.” Once more met with silence, Cassian put back on his layers, face carefully schooled into one of well-practiced neutrality.

Taking one last look at his apparent soulmate, Cassian frowned slightly before standing, “Well then. Pleasant chat, good luck with the arm. Good night, Renard.” Without waiting for a response, he turned to leave in an attempt to salvage any face left to save.

_ Shit. _

* * *

_ “Mother, does EVERYONE have a soulmate?” _

_ Vanden’s mother smiled down at her youngest son, scooping him up into her lap and startling a giggle out of the little boy, “I do believe so, my love,” she assured once he settled, voice warm and certain. _

_ Vanden was quiet for a moment, fidgeting in his mother’s lap, “Matti said that if you and your soulmate don’t like each other right away, you’ll hate each other forever because your soul enemies.” The question was left unsaid, though heavily implied, and the queen closed eyes as she sighed. The little boy on her lap kicked his feet as he waited for an answer, brow furrowed in worry, “Mother?” _

_ “No, Vanden, what your brother said was just to scare you,” she assured him pulling her son close, “If you and your soul mate don’t like each other right away, you’re just going to have to work a little harder at first. But I know you, my little love, are an incredibly hard worker, so you’ll be just fine.” _

Renard slipped out of the memory, finding himself staring into the fire he had finally gotten lit after making use of the medical supplies Cassian had left behind in his exit to stitch his arm closed.  _ Cassian,  _ his mind once again replayed their earlier encounter, each time more painful to watch as the last.  _ Cassian Thiarin  _ was somehow his soulmate. The worst possible person for him at the worst possible time. Renard rubbed slowly at his temple as a soft laugh slipped unbidden past his lips at the absurdity of it all.

If they had met in another time, he thought, things could have been so very different. If they had met when he could still be Vanden, still dreaming of the day he would meet his other half. Vanden du Argenfort would have fallen back on his mother’s words, Renard thought, the memory on the edge of drifting away once more. “You’re just going to have to work a little harder at first,” she had told him, “you’ll be just fine.” 

For the first time since the epiphany, Renard allowed himself to settle his gaze fully on Cassian, the final dregs of sunlight filtering over the man as he sat reading through his spellbook. His brow was deeply furrowed, and Renard couldn’t help but wonder whether it was in concentration or frustration. Dropping his gaze before he was caught staring, Renard reached up to fiddle with the mask obscuring the majority of his face.

_ Cassian had never seen his face,  _ he pondered. Cassian, who had the gall to complain about ruined clothes after nearly losing his life, hadn’t complained nor objected once throughout the whole discovery, and had never even _ seen his face _ . Renard shook his head as he struggled to parse through his thoughts, “Luckily,  _ I  _ am not afraid to show skin,” he’d teased, taking the initiative to compare their marks before Renard could form the words, the silences between each phrase he said, trying to draw something other than silence out him like a child, and he  _ hadn’t complained once.  _

“ _ Work a little harder,”  _ the memory of Vanden’s mother whispered in his ear.

Renard took a steadying breath, fingers tracing over the mask that had become a part of him in the time since his escape. How long had it been since he had last been Vanden? Since his escape? Since the Weeping Eye attacked his home months ago? Could he be that man again if he wanted to,  _ did  _ he want to?  _ Yes.  _ He answered almost immediately. Renard was an act carefully maintained, but, he thought, an act all the same, a lie created for his own safety. “Work a little harder,” his mother had told him as he sat in her lap. Cassian  _ had,  _ Renard told himself. Cassian  _ had  _ tried without even knowing who he was beyond a swordsman with a mask. If nothing else, he told himself, the man deserved the truth about who he was bound to.

The camp was quiet, Astra sleeping off the physical strain of his near-death experience, Boblem spooned around him protectively.  _ They’re all safe,  _ he reminded himself, as he stood to take watch alongside Cassian. The man was already awake as Renard approached his bedroll, raising a silent eyebrow as he pushed himself up and dusted off his clothing. “Can I help you, Renard?” he asked cooly, face guarded, “I am aware of watch, but I believe there is  _ plenty  _ of perimeter for us to stay  _ far  _ away from each other” he snapped, the whispered tone making the words come across as a hiss.

“I’m sorry,” Renard murmured, startling Cassian into making eye contact, “I’m sorry for...acting how I did, it was unfair to you,” Cassian hummed in agreement but remained wordless, waving for him to continue, “I owe you an explanation that I’m willing to give if you’d walk the perimeter with me.”

Cassian scoffed quietly, eyes guarded as he attempted to make sense of Renard’s actions before sighing in acquiescence. “Very well, let’s go. This had best be a damned apology I’ve heard, Renard.”

The pair walked in silence, moving at a steady pace and only stopping as they came up behind the wreckage, the view of them from camp obscured but the ship. Cassian raised an eyebrow at their location, “if this is where you planned to bring me to kill, Rena-”

“That’s not my name,” he interrupted, words tumbling out before he could stop them, and effectively silencing the elf for a long moment.

“...What?” Cassian asked, voice quiet and notably higher pitched than he was used to hearing.

“Renard...isn’t my name,” he repeated, a small smile slipping onto his lips at the admission.

“And so your apparently secret name  _ is?” _

“Vanden,” he confessed, voice barely above a whisper, “My name is Vanden.”

Cassian’s brow furrowed up, similar to how it had earlier in the evening, “Vanden...?” he echoed, as if testing how it felt to say the name, “Forgive my suspicion,  _ Vanden,  _ but-” “Cassian”-” I do believe that name has already been-” “Cassian-” “taken by a rather well-known citizen of Mirrortail.” He responded, the ginger trying to cut in to no avail.

“ _ Cassian,”  _ he interrupted one final time, tone weighed heavily with frustration. “I told you I would give you an explanation, but you need to let me  _ speak  _ in order for me to do so....and I need you to promise me something, before .”

“That depends on the promise”, Cassian mused aloud, his eyes catching and holding Ren- _ Vanden _ ’s own as well as he could through the mask.

“Whatever you see here tonight, whatever you are told, it won’t be mentioned to anyone outside of us.”

Cassian nodded slowly in understanding, going very still soon after as the ginger carefully untied the mask, taking another breath before peeling it away. After a short moment, he returned his gaze back to Cassian, slowly tilting his head to look at him without the barrier between them for the first time. Cassian’s gasp was small and carefully contained but Vanden smiled slightly at the sight, a soft laugh sneaking out of him, “So now you know,” he murmured, tilting his head down slightly to hide his face from any prying travel partners.

“...Holy  _ shit, _ ” Cassian mumbled, eyes tracing over the lines of his face, “I don’t remember your portraits having so many  _ freckles _ ” he mused. Vanden cursed the elf’s darkvision as he felt a blush begin to creep up his cheeks at the observation, “I find I quite like it.” 

Vanden definitely did  _ not _ squirm under Cassian’ careful gaze, the hand not holding his mask flexing and unflexing at his side. His lips quirked slightly despite the tension that hung in the air, “I’m glad to know I meet your standards in one category, at least,” he mused, his smile turning wry and self-deprecating.

Cassian tutted, eyes not leaving Vanden’s face, before slowly reaching a hand up. He paused several inches from where he wanted to place it, as if afraid to startle the man and break whatever bubble had seemed to have enveloped them. He wet his lips before speaking, “Can I...” he swallowed, words feeling strangely difficult to find for a man whose very being was having the right word at the right time. “Can I touch you, Ren-Vanden?”

For the briefest, most awful moment, there was a hesitation in the fighter’s eyes, and Cassian started to step back and away, throat closing. But then there was Vanden’s hand wrapped around the back of his own, determination having taken over his gaze as he slowly, carefully, pulled Cassian back in, placing the wizard’s hand against his cheek.

_ This  _ was what Cassian had expected of meeting a soulmate, if he ever did, a warmth he wasn’t entirely familiar with growing in his chest. He shook his head, a raspy laugh slipping out as they stood there, Cassian’s hand moving ever so slightly to trace fingers across the lines and planes of Vanden’s face, just as his eyes had done before. “Cassian, I-” 

“Whatever you want to say, don’t. I’m having a moment and I don’t want it ruined by any feet in mouths,” Cassian chided, fingers coming to lightly trace over chapped lips, feeling them brush against his fingers as the man completely ignored what he had just said.

“But-”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Vanden,  _ shut up _ ,” Cassian didn’t wait for a response before leaning in and pressing his lips against Vanden’s own, a noise of surprise muffled between them. Cassian was peripherally aware of the sound of the mask hitting the grass, smiling against the kiss as the now empty hand came to rest on his hip, Vanden’s other hand tangling in his hair.

Vanden wasn’t sure what he’d been prepared for when he convinced Cassian to walk with him, but he was certain he hadn’t expected to have him in his arms, kissing him senseless. He was decidedly  _ not  _ complaining. 

He wasn’t certain how long it was before they pulled apart, desperate for breath, and quiet for a long moment. He couldn’t see himself, but there was no doubting the warm flush that had bloomed on his cheeks had spread down his neck and up his ears.

It was Cassian who spoke first, still standing just inside his personal space, and for the first time in months, Vanden found he didn’t mind the feeling. For the first time since the attack, his skin wasn’t crawling at the idea of touching someone, his fingers itching instead to reach out. Cassian cleared his throat softly, sweeping back his hair where it had fallen forward, “I suppose we have some long discussions ahead, you and I, but I knew I was born for royalty.”

Vanden laughed, shaking his head as he stared at the man. After this moment was over, after they stepped apart and continued to walk the perimeter, the mask would have to return to its place, Cassian frowning but saying nothing. When they went back to camp, he would have to pull back on the mantle of Renard, Vanden once more being tucked away. But in that moment, where things were quiet and Cassian was neither spitting venom nor walking away; where they stood in a pleasant silence as they worked through their own thoughts, fingers tentatively brushing the backs of hands, Vanden let himself have this. 

“ _ You, my little love, are an incredibly hard worker, so I know you’ll be just fine _ ,” Vanden’s mother had murmured into her son’s fiery hair. As the mask was once more tied into place, the pair walked side-by-side, if not a hair’s-breadth closer. As he glanced over at Cassian, even Renard found that he believed her. 


End file.
